


Come What May

by crochetaway



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 19 years later, F/M, Resurrection, back from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 09:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18258122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: James Potter makes a choice, changing Hermione Granger's life forever.





	Come What May

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxDustNight88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxDustNight88/gifts).



> **Written for Hermione's Haven Bunny Bounce 2019!**
> 
> **My Prompt:  
> **  
>  **19 years later, Hermione was ready to enjoy life and her career to the fullest. And she does, for a while. One day she comes home to her flat to find a face from the past. Now she has to figure out how to get him back before everything dissolves into chaos. But what happens when he shows her just how much he wants to stay?**
> 
> **A/N: Many thanks to the lovely Khyharah & magzillasaurus for betaing this piece for me! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff and Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. **
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) please let me know about it in a review!**

__

* * *

  _Nowhere, Everywhere, No Time, Every Time_

* * *

“The decision is yours.” The voice of the three fates was terrible, grating like a fork against a ceramic plate, but worse somehow, and it took James Potter everything he had to not press his hands against his ears. How was he supposed to make this decision? Or rather, which decision was the best one for him?

“What did Lily, Sirius, and Remus decide?” James asked. He felt weak for asking, but at the end of the day, he had to know. He still held out some hope that he would see Lily again.

“Lily Evans Potter has moved on and was not given, nor eligible for a choice. Sirius Orion Black and Remus John Lupin were given the same choice as you. We cannot tell you the fates of others. We can only offer you a choice. Reincarnation or restoration?” Again, James had to grit his teeth as they spoke. He should stop asking them questions. It wasn’t helping the headache that was forming at the base of his skull.

“How does restoration work, then?” James asked. Then immediately kicked himself when he realized he’d have to listen to them speak again. The fates were three, but they spoke as one, their voices a multitude.

The fates sighed, and if possible, that sound was worse than them talking. This time James did shove his hands over his ears before removing them once more. Clotho was the young girl, Lachesis the woman, and Atropos the crone; all three were wearing red and when they had pulled James here from the afterlife he had been enjoying, he had thought he had done something wrong. It turned out he was being offered a choice. How was he supposed to decide? He didn’t want to forget about his past life, and Merlin, if restoration was a possibility, then he could see Harry again. James was strongly considering it.

“Restoration means you retain this body,” Lachesis said, indicating him. The voice of one fate wasn’t as terrible as all three, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. The power of her voice thrummed through him and James shuddered. “You retain all memories of your past and you will be assigned a handler to help you readapt to life. The past, present, and future are intertwined, but the opening we have for you is in 2017.”

“2017!” James shouted. “That’s like,” he did some quick math in his head, “thirty-six years after I died! My son will be thirty-seven years old! How—”

“ _ **SILENCE**_!” the fates roared at him; the power of their voices so strong that it whipped up a wind, blowing it directly into James’ face. He rocked back a step before settling again once the wind had died down. Although the fates looked the same, James could feel a current of annoyance emanating from them.

Somehow, James knew they weren’t going to accept any more questions. He took a deep breath and glanced around the dull, grey room the fates had brought him to. Reincarnation or restoration? Was it really much of a choice after all?

“Restoration,” he whispered. He hoped at least one of them, Sirius or Remus, had chosen the same. He would have liked to see them again. His heart hurt, knowing he would never see Lily again. But it’s not like she had been in the afterlife with him and the remaining Marauders. He wouldn’t be missing her any more than he already was. Better to retain his memories of his wife and friends than be born anew without them.

“So it shall be done. Come what may,” the fates intoned and everything went black.

* * *

_12 June 2017_

* * *

Hermione barged through the front door of her flat, flicking it closed behind her with her wand. She had much to get done tonight. Setting her bag on her kitchen table, with a few more wand flicks she had a simple meal cooking and hot water for tea boiling on the cooker. She strode back to her bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. Ever since her divorce from Ron, Hermione made sure to keep strict office hours. Nobody said she couldn’t take work home with her. And really, it only made sense to take care of herself. There were only so many times she could see the cleaning staff at the Ministry give her that sad, mournful look before she snapped and hexed them.

She had her shirt off and her trousers undone by the time she reached her bedroom door. Flicking it open with her wand, she sent her blouse to the hamper in the corner and promptly screamed when she spotted the man asleep in her bed.

“Wha— Hu—” The man sat up quickly, looking around blearily and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“Harry James Potter! What are you doing asleep in my damned bed? What are you even doing in the country? I thought you were—”

The man grabbed a pair of spectacles, a style Harry hadn’t worn since they were children and shoved them onto his face. That’s when Hermione realized she still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she Summoned her robe from the hook behind the door, quickly wrapping it around herself. The man in her bed wasn’t Harry. His eyes weren’t green.

“Who the fuck are you? And why are you using bad Polyjuice Potion?” Hermione asked, leveling her wand at the man.

“Bad Polyjuice? What are you talking about?” The man shook his head like he was confused and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You look like Harry Potter, but I know for a fact you aren’t him. How else do you explain it?” Hermione hissed. Her patience was wearing thin. The last thing she needed to deal with tonight was a crazy fan trying to get in with the only single member of the ‘Golden Trio.’ She had assumed her reputation for severely hexing anyone who crossed her would protect her, but clearly, it did not. How did he even get past her wards? They had been up and functional when she walked in. Perhaps she’d have someone from the Ministry look at them. Obviously, there was a design flaw.

“Harry Potter is my son,” the man said standing from the bed and holding his hands up, palms facing her as if trying to placate her.

“James Potter has been dead for thirty-six years,” Hermione said. She looked closely at him, his eyes were hazel and he looked so much like Harry, but his jaw was squarer and his hair a length that Harry rarely kept his anymore.

“Not anymore,” he grinned. “Who are you?”

“You know perfectly well who I am!” Hermione spat. “I just hope the shit Polyjuice you imbibed doesn’t kill you before I can get the Aurors here.”

“Woah! Love, no need to call the Aurors. I promise I am who I say I am. Didn’t you get the notice? You’re supposed to be my handler, right?” The poor Harry Potter imitator smiled at her and while Hermione thought it was dazzling, it also irritated her. Did he think he was charming?

“Listen, people don’t just come back to life,” Hermione said. “Do you even know the dangers of long-term use of Polyjuice Potion? I guarantee you, it isn’t pretty. Just give up the act and let me call the authorities. Perhaps I could be persuaded to not press charges for breaking into my flat if you get the proper help you need.”

The man threw his head back and laughed. Hermione scowled at him.

“Here, I’ll prove I’m James Potter. You said you know my son? Well, then you’ll know he has a birthmark on his lower back, looks like a lumpy, upside down ‘7’. Also, he’s got green eyes like his moth—”

“Literally, everyone on the fucking planet knows that,” Hermione interrupted. “Harry Potter is the most written about wizard in British Wizarding History. You can spout all the facts you want about him, but I could tell you which book or article they were cited in.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that was so Harry, it startled Hermione.

“Tell me something about Lily,” Hermione murmured.

The look of raw sadness in the man’s eyes threatened to overwhelm Hermione. She’d always thought that James and Lily Potter’s romance was exactly that, romantic. Tragic, but romantic nonetheless.

“Brightest witch of our year,” he said. “I thought she was perfect, amazing. Had ever since first year. She hated me though, called me a toe-rag,” he laughed ruefully. “She was so damned smart, figured out Remus was a werewolf in third year. By the time sixth year rolled around, I’d finally calmed down enough that she looked at me with new eyes…”

“Holy shit, you’re James Potter,” Hermione breathed as she realized exactly who this man was.

“Told you, love,” James grinned at her. Hermione stared at him, completely gobsmacked. James Potter was dead, but this man didn’t look dead. Not even close. He didn’t look his age either, he’d be fifty-seven or so if Hermione’s math was correct. She peered closer at him. He didn’t look older than forty.

“How are you here?” Hermione asked. “You should be dead. Did you not really die? I have never heard of anything like this before.”

“Well, I was given a choice from the fa—” suddenly James seemed to be unable to talk. He choked, coughed, tried to get the words out but his face turned red than blue. He bent over at the waist, his hands on his throat.

Hermione looked at him in alarm and slammed her hand on his back. After a long moment of coughing, James stood up, his face was red and he had tears leaking from his eyes.

“Guess I can’t talk about it,” he said, his voice hoarse from the coughing fit.

“Merlin,” Hermione whispered, staring at him. _What the fuck was she going to do?_

* * *

_13 June 2017_

* * *

The following morning, Hermione left James alone in her flat with instructions on how to use the telly. She probably had enough time to take off of work, but she wanted to do some research in the Ministry Archives about James’ situation. He’d explained what he was allowed to of his ‘afterlife’ as he called it and Hermione had decided that he had truly died. It was strange though, that Lily, who he ostensibly died with, hadn’t been in the afterlife with him. Sirius and Remus had been though, which was telling considering they both died years after James did. She’d tried to ask what it was like prior to Remus and Sirius showing up, but James shook his head and didn’t answer. Hermione didn’t know what that meant. Perhaps he’d been alone? How lonely would that have been? She shuddered at the thought.

The Ministry wasn’t very busy this early in the morning as Hermione made her way up to her office. She had a meeting with the Minister in about an hour, but she hoped she could call a few books up from the Ministry Archive before then.

She hadn’t been in her office for longer than a minute when someone knocked on her door. She finished hanging up her cloak and flicked her wand, opening the door. She was surprised to see an Unspeakable standing there. Unspeakables were generally never seen this high up in the Ministry.

“Can I help you?” Hermione asked. She didn’t recognize the Unspeakable, but Hermione wasn’t surprised about that. Unspeakables were chosen in part because they weren’t very memorable.

“Hermione Granger-Weasley?” he asked.

“Just Hermione Granger these days,” Hermione said with a tight smile.

“Have a seat,” he indicated her desk chair and she narrowed her eyes at him before doing what he asked.

“What can I do for you, Mr…?”

“My name is unimportant.” He thrust a sealed envelope at her. Hermione frowned before taking it from him. Her name was printed on the front in an old-fashioned script. Nothing else was on the envelope. She flipped it over and examined the wax seal, but it was blurred and difficult to see. She thought she could see three women, but it was difficult to make out. The Unspeakable cleared his throat. Hermione didn’t respond to his sound of impatience, except to open the envelope and read the missive inside.

“I don’t understand,” she said once she read the letter. She skimmed it again, still confused and shook her head.

“It’s quite clear,” the Unspeakable said, his voice indicating his annoyance. “You’ve been chosen by the fates to become a handler. This hardly ever happens, last recorded history was over five hundred years ago. But you’ve been chosen, nothing to do about it now. Come what may.”

“Well, this saves me from a bit of research, I suppose,” Hermione said. “James Potter showed up at my flat last night. What do I do now?”

“Acclimate him to the times, help him if he needs it, then set him free,” the Unspeakable said before standing.

“What about his citizenship, does he need to be reinstated? There’s a whole bureaucratic mess to deal with when someone comes back to life,” Hermione replied.

“I trust the Senior Advisor to the Minister for Magic is capable of handling such matters,” the Unspeakable intoned and then swept from her office.

Hermione looked down at the letter in her hands. At least now she had some sort of an explanation for why James Potter had shown up in her flat. But why her? And how was this even possible? She still had another half hour until her meeting with Kingsley, so Hermione dashed off a quick memo to her assistant asking for a variety of books and histories from the Archives. Perhaps if she knew how this happened five hundred years ago, it would clue her in to why it was happening again.

That settled, Hermione tried to figure out the words to write to Harry. Clearly, he needed to come back early from his assignment abroad. Thirty minutes later and the parchment in front of her was still blank. How did one tell their best friend that their dad wasn’t dead after all?

* * *

That night when Hermione returned home, James was still in front of the telly, but he had fallen asleep at some point. She picked up the remote and clicked the telly off, frowning at her guest. She hadn’t had time to write Harry, perhaps she’d find the words she needed tomorrow. Shuffling into the kitchen, Hermione began to make a simple dinner of pasta and salad. She was almost finished when she felt someone looking at her, a glance over her shoulder told her James was leaning in the doorway to her kitchen. Hermione flushed when she realized how good she thought he looked just then.

“Dinner’s almost finished,” Hermione muttered as she turned back to the sauce she was simmering.

“Can I help?” James asked.

“Set the table.” She flicked her wand and the cupboard with the dishes opened.

Hermione and James settled at the table in a somewhat awkward silence. Finally, after a long moment, Hermione began telling James what she’d learned that day from the Department of Mysteries.

“It’s funny, a case hasn’t happened like this in over five hundred years. So what did you do to get a choice?” Hermione mused.

James looked guilty for a moment and Hermione wondered if he knew exactly what he’d done.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Hermione asked.

“I think it has to do with a device we created in our sixth year,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck. Another gesture that was so uniquely Harry that Hermione had to blink her eyes. It was James in front of her, not Harry. She needed to keep that in mind.

“The Marauder's Map,” Hermione said. “Did you imbue it with bits of your soul or something?”

“Soul and magical core. It’s how it has a personality when you don’t know the password,” James grinned at her cheekily, then frowned. “How do you know about the map?”

“I’m best friends with your son. Who incidentally got the map from the Weasley twins who nicked it from Filch’s office.”

“Nice! But, man, the map was in Filch’s office for that long? That’s a bummer.”

“So the map gave you a choice, I didn’t think to ask, but the Unspeakable I spoke with today didn’t mention other cases…”

“I suspect Sirius wanted to forget it all happened,” James said sadly. “And Remus is too much of a rule-follower to not move on.”

“So it’s just you,” Hermione said sadly.

“Lucky you,” James winked at her, startling Hermione into a laugh.

James was fascinating, Hermione found. He was so alike Harry in looks and gestures, but his confidence and even arrogance was nothing like his son. And he had a surprising manner that made her laugh. If she wasn’t careful, she was worried she’d be in a bit of trouble.

* * *

_16 June 2017_

* * *

James was stuck inside Hermione’s apartment for the better part of the week. Hermione told him she wanted to strategize over the weekend about how to announce his return.

“I can’t just be anonymous?” James asked.

“Merlin, no. You’re the dead father of the most famous wizard alive. And you look just like him. No, we need a plan. And the first part of that plan will have to include Harry,” Hermione told him.

James had more questions than answers about Hermione’s relationship with Harry. They were friends, but the way Hermione talked about him, made him wonder if they were something more at some point in the past. He’d scoured Hermione’s bookshelves for books on his son. She’d made the comment he was the most written about wizard, and he found she wasn't wrong. He found four books alone detailing his son’s life and escapades on Hermione’s shelves and each of those referenced other books and articles that Hermione didn’t have in her collection.

Finally, Friday evening rolled around and James had just finished reading the last of Hermione’s books on Harry. There were a few others he was interested in reading as well, including one about Dumbledore’s life. Hermione had filled him in on the gist of what happened in the last thirty-six years and frankly, James was stunned. He had no idea his and Lily’s deaths would spark another war.

“Those are the best of the bunch,” Hermione said when she saw the stack of books next to him. She’d just breezed through the door and with a flick of her wand sent her bag and coat off to their proper places. “There are loads more, but those are the most factual. Although, none of them have all the details, of course.” She settled onto the sofa next to him, moving the books out of the way. She sat with one leg tucked underneath her, facing him.

“Why not?”

“Because, Harry, Ron, and I spent a year tracking down magic that we don’t want anyone else knowing about. We don’t want anyone getting any ideas,” Hermione said with a slight shudder.

“Ron?”

“Ron Weasley, my ex-husband, incidentally.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” James said, cocking his head to the side. “Any kids?”

“Two actually,” Hermione replied. “Who did you think all the redheads in the photos around the flat were? They live with their father during the summer months.”

“Eh, I didn’t much think about it,” James admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Hermione laughed and shook her head.

“What?”

“You and Harry, you’re so alike in so many ways. And yet completely different. It’s…strange.”

There she went, talking about his son again, making James want to know what their relationship really was. Before he knew it, the words were coming out of his mouth. Sirius used to call it his word-vomit, this inability to keep his mouth shut. Remus called it foot-in-mouth syndrome. Whatever it was, James still couldn’t help it.

“What sort of relationship do you have with Harry anyway?” His eyes widened and he clapped his hand over his mouth.

Hermione laughed again. “It’s natural for you to want to know. Are you worried about something in particular?”

James considered her for a long moment, before leaning forward and tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “Just want to make sure I’m not encroaching on someplace my son has already been.”

Hermione’s breath hitched as she stared up at him. He knew his words could have been more elegant, but she didn’t seem to mind. His eyes slipped down toward her lips, then back up at her eyes, asking for permission. She nodded, ever so slightly, and just as his lips were about to touch hers, there was a knock at her door.

“Hermione! You in there?” someone asked in between pounds.

James groaned, hanging his head.

“Oh, shit! You’ve got to hide,” Hermione said, pulling James up by his hand and dragging him down the hallway to her bedroom.

“What do you mean hide?” James asked.

“That’s Harry!” she hissed. “What in the world is he doing back? Merlin, I haven’t had a chance to write him.”

“I want to see him,” James said, suddenly not moving.

“You can just give me a minute to explain, please?” Hermione asked. “I promise, I’ll let you two talk tonight.”

James frowned at her and allowed her to lead her into her bedroom.

“Hermione?” the shouting came again.

“Coming, Harry!” Hermione said as she shut the door to the bedroom and hurried down the hallway. The bedroom door muffled their conversation, although James put his ear to the wood, hoping to hear something, anything really. He didn’t have a wand yet. Apparently, that wasn’t something one took into the afterlife and then back out of it. He tried to hear what Harry and Hermione were discussing, but all he could hear was the muffled sound of voices.

He wanted to pace, his palms were sweating. He was about to come face-to-face with his son for the first time in decades and he didn’t know how he was feeling. The last time he’d seen Harry, he had been a baby, barely over a year old. And now he was a grown man with a wife and kids of his own. Merlin, he was a grandfather. The thought hit him like a physical blow to the gut and he doubled-over, sinking to the floor with his back against the door. He buried his head into his hands as he tried to come to grips with what his life would be now.

The door attempting to nudge open behind him brought him around moments later.

“James?” Hermione asked softly, knocking lightly on the door.

He scrambled up and whipped the door open. Just Hermione was standing there, but a quick glance behind her showed there was someone sitting in the lounge.

“Harry would like to speak with you,” Hermione said. “Turned out that he felt like he was needed at home so he cut the mission short.”

“Mission?” James asked, focusing back on Hermione.

She smiled at him. “He’s an Auror, head of the department actually.”

“Like me,” James grinned at her. Before he could think twice of it, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She looked up at him with surprise, before moving out of the way and allowing James to go and greet his son.

* * *

_19 June 2017_

* * *

Hermione sighed quietly as she rolled over in bed to stare at the wall. James and Harry had talked for hours on Friday evening, stretching into Saturday morning. Harry had finally left her flat near dawn and James had fallen asleep on the sofa. Hermione didn’t have the heart to move him, so she left a note and slipped out the door. She didn’t often work on Saturdays, but she felt that James probably needed some time to himself.

She’d gotten in deep with a law on werewolves and hadn’t arrived home Saturday evening until well after ten to find James either still asleep on the sofa, or asleep again. Hermione had shuffled off to her bedroom and slept like the dead until waking moments ago.

The sun streamed through her window and she watched as the dust motes danced in its beams. The cat was out of the bag for Harry, now to put the rest of her plan in motion. She sighed, it wasn’t going to be easy, but when had Hermione ever gone for the easy route? No, the hardest part would be recognizing her burgeoning feelings for James for what they were and then burying them deep. James didn’t need the complication that she would bring to his life. Merlin, she could see the headline of the _Daily Prophet_ now. ‘GOLDEN TRIO MEMBER SINKS HER CLAWS INTO BOY-WHO-LIVED’S RESURRECTED FATHER!’

She shuddered at the thought and closed her eyes. Perhaps she could allow herself the day to wallow before setting everything in motion that would announce James Potter’s arrival into the wizarding world once again.

At the edge of sleep, Hermione thought that she’d heard her bedroom door open, but she ignored it and burrowed deeper into her bed, waiting for oblivion to take her once more.

She groaned under her breath when she felt the bed dip. Maybe he would think she was asleep and go away.

“Hermione?” he asked softly.

No such luck.

She rolled over and opened her eyes to see James looking down at her with a pensive expression.

“Morning,” she grunted and sat up against the headboard. She pulled the sheet up, despite being fully clothed, she still felt a little naked sitting in her bed with a handsome wizard.

“You alright?” James asked cautiously.

Hermione gritted her teeth and nodded. He didn’t need to know the ridiculous thoughts she had in the middle of the night about him. How she longed for him to kiss her like he seemed to want to do just before Harry had knocked on her door a few days ago.

“Right,” James nodded, running his hands through his hair. “The thing is…” he trailed off and looked intensely at her for a long moment.

“Yes?” Hermione asked. She held her breath. She had no idea what he was going to say. Would he terminate their fledgling whatever this was? Or had he forgotten about it in the wake of meeting Harry? Was he going to ask to go live with Harry? Not that Hermione could or would stop him if that was what he wanted, but the idea of him not being at her flat anymore was devastating.

“Merlin, I can hear your brain working from here,” James chuckled lightly. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione was startled and jumped, not moving for a long moment, until James kissed her again and again, that time sweeping his tongue along the seam of her lips. She groaned and melted against him as she finally returned the kiss. He dragged her forward until she was straddling him. Her hands tangled in his hair and he wrapped his arms around her. She felt like a teenager again, her hormones going into overdrive. He snogged her like he was drowning and only she could save him. Hermione was quite sure she’d never had a snog like this before.

She poured everything she had been feeling over the last week into this kiss. All her fears and the hopes she almost hadn’t dared to hope. James took them all and gave them back tenfold. When they both finally pulled away, they were each panting. James’ eyes were dilated to the point of being almost entirely black and Hermione was could feel his hardened length pressed against her core. Her hips rocked almost instinctively and James groaned, flexing his own hips beneath her. Hermione’s hands drifted to his face and she kissed him again.

This kiss was more languid, an exploration of each other. One of James’ hands drifted up the back of her shirt and the skin-on-skin contact had Hermione groaning into his mouth. She should stop. They should stop. They definitely shouldn’t take this the way it was headed, but Hermione couldn’t find the self-control to make it end. It felt too good, too right. It was like everything she had been missing with Ron was right here in front of her.

They were both naked before Hermione’s brain had caught up to her body and she had James aligned to her center.

“Please,” James said, looking deeply into her eyes as Hermione slowly, so slowly, slid down and settled herself on his cock. It felt like completion having him inside her and she was moving before she could think more about it. She didn’t want to think. She only wanted to feel. Come what may.

**_~Fin~_ **


End file.
